


I Know How I Feel About You

by mandykaysfic



Series: 12 Days of Christmas 2015 [1]
Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Episode Related, M/M, Telepathy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-01
Updated: 2016-01-01
Packaged: 2018-05-10 21:26:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5601694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mandykaysfic/pseuds/mandykaysfic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chakotay has a secret he never intended to share.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Know How I Feel About You

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. Some of the dialogue is from Series 1, episode 1, "Caretaker".
> 
> 2\. Written for the 12 Days of Christmas - Day 1 - 'One extended hand'.

“Whoever makes you feel that deeply and that intensely, deserves to know how they’ve impacted you.” ― Alison G. Bailey, Present Perfect

 

*

 

Chakotay groaned; it had to be Paris who returned for him. His stress level ratcheted up several more notches. He stared up at Tom's outstretched hand.

"Go!" he ordered. "My leg is broken. I'll only slow you down,"

His tenuous grip on the broken railing was the only thing keeping him from falling down the shaft that led to the Ocampan underground complex. Fear, along with the pain in his leg, the burn in his arms and the cramp in his fingers tore through his mental shields. He bit down on his lip, drawing blood, but still he refused to take Tom's hand. In his current condition, he'd never be able to prevent his secret being exposed.

"No. Come on, Chakotay. Let me help you."

His future, rather than his past, flashed before his eyes. If he survived the fall, he'd have to live with the Ocampans until the energy supplied by the Caretaker ran out.

"Get out of here, Paris, before the whole thing comes down!"

Tuvok had estimated the energy supplied by the Caretaker would last five years. In his heart, he knew he had only seconds before he fell. Chakotay weighed that against the knowledge that once he took Tom's hand, Tom would know everything he'd worked so hard to keep private.

"I intend to, as soon as I get you up."

"You get on those stairs, they'll collapse! We'll both die!" An ominous creaking emphasized the truth of his words.

"Yeah? But on the other hand, if I save your butt your life belongs to me. Isn't that some kind of Indian custom?"

"Wrong tribe." The automatic comeback wasn't strictly true. Tom didn't own Chakotay's life; he actually owned Chakotay's heart.

"I don't believe you."

Chakotay could barely watch as Tom clambered down to the last unbroken step and take hold of the opposite railing, readying himself to support Chakotay's weight.

"You'd rather die than let me be the one to rescue you?"

"Fine. Be a fool. If I have to die, at least I'll have the pleasure of watching you go with me," he said as he let go with one hand and made a grab for Tom's hand. It was the moment of truth.

Tom's eyes widened in shock. A dozen expressions crossed his features. Chakotay read the fear, anxiety, embarrassment, shame and more, not to mention lust and love, as easily as if they'd been written on paper. He couldn't mistake them, as the emotions were his.

"Chakotay?"

Chakotay shook his head. "Later, Paris." He settled his arms around Tom's neck, unable to assist more than that as Tom pulled them both up the remaining steps.

"Isn't there some Indian trick where you can turn yourself into a bird and fly us out of here?"

"You're too heavy." After that, Chakotay refused to talk any more. He concentrated on keeping his weight balanced and making things as easy for Tom as possible as the shaft shook with repeated weapons fire, while a part of his mind worked to repair his shields.

*

For several days, the most Chakotay saw of Tom was the back of his head as he sat at the conn, competently flying Voyager in the direction of home. He'd waited for Tom to come and demand an explanation as to what had happened on Ocampa, but to Chakotay's surprise, Tom had assiduously avoided him.

With a deep sigh, he dropped the PADD he'd been staring blindly for the past twenty minutes back into his in-tray. Getting to his feet, he turned his back on his work and headed across his office to stare out of the viewport as he tried once more to work out the best was to broach the subject.

Tom, about what you thought you felt on Ocampa...no, he knows there was no way he imagined it. Tom, you know how Vulcans and other species have telepathic powers? Did you know there's a variant--

The door chimed, and Tom's voice broke Chakotay's train of thought.

"Betazoid. You have Betazoid blood in your family tree. Sorry, the door wasn't locked. But I figured it out. The pain from your leg made you inadvertently project your emotions to me."

Tom may very well have been part Betazoid, as Chakotay easily picked up on nervousness, curiosity, and apprehension, in addition to, he hoped and believed, desire as Tom came to stand beside him.

"No, Tom. I can trace my lineage back many generations and there's not one drop of Betazoid blood."

"What, not even a single inter-species love match or illicit affair that resulted in at least one offspring?"

Chakotay returned Tom's grin, and shook his head. He waved a hand at the window seat. "I owe you an explanation. I'd rather not be interrupted," he said after he ordered the computer to secure the room.

"So...." Chakotay made certain he wasn't touching Tom as he settled at the other end of the bench and faced him.

"Adolescence is a trying time for almost everyone," he began.

"Tell me about it," agreed Tom wryly, as both men rolled their eyes.

"It's hard enough when what you want for your future is different to what's expected of you."

"You got that right," put in Tom.

"It's even more difficult when you begin to manifest...," he paused briefly and frowned, before continuing slowly, "a gift. A talent, they called it. A blessing." He didn't bother to restrain the snort that accompanied that particular descriptor. "It may be a gift, but it's not a particularly useful talent and in no way did I find it to be a blessing. I can't communicate telepathically, I can't sense thoughts or emotions in others any more than regular humans, and I can't purposefully project my thoughts or emotions onto others."

When Tom opened his mouth to interject, Chakotay smothered a smile; he knew what Tom was going to say, although to be fair, it didn't require any kind of mind reading.

"But, Chakotay, what I felt, down in the shaft on Ocampa. Those weren't my feelings. They were yours. The fear, the anxiety. Don't get me wrong. I couldn't let you see I was terrified we weren't going make it, but not all of it was mine. The...the...the quality was different," Tom waved his hands as he tried to explain. "And I didn't feel it until you took my hand."

Reflexively, Chakotay backed away when Tom reached toward him.

"Not to mention that hanging onto a broken staircase, with energy beams likely to kill me at any moment, is anything I've ever associated with...sex."

As usual, Chakotay felt thankful his dark complexion mostly hid his blushes as he watched the high color stain Tom's cheeks.

"You want me. I never realized," he continued after a moment.

"Er...." Would Tom mention the other? The love Chakotay felt for him?

"Hellava time, not to mention place, to find out."

"It wasn't my intention."

"That was clear."

"Tom...."

"I know, Chakotay," Tom said softly. "I know. I got it all and I'm thinking I would never have known, had it not been for the fact you needed me to save your life. Anyway, you still haven't explained how I felt your emotions."

The change of topic was abrupt, but Chakotay knew he wasn't off the hook; Tom would get to the heart of the matter, so to speak, when he was ready.

"You said it's not telepathy," encouraged Tom.

"Strictly speaking, it is telepathy of a type, except it's unidirectional and basically uncontrollable. Until I learned to shield my mind, whatever emotions I was feeling would transfer to any person I made skin contact with. Imagine your father introducing you to someone for the first time, you shake hands, and immediately they know you find them repulsive, boring, and probably untrustworthy?"

Tom shook his head.

"I was twelve. It created a diplomatic incident."

The curse was involuntary and entirely sympathetic. "I'd still be grounded, or worse, if I'd done that," said Tom.

"Within two months, some...things...occurred and it was decided I needed training in managing my gift. I was sent to live with my mother's second cousin, and it was the best thing that could have happened. Like me, Lonato was unusual, except he could see the energy patterns of living things. He saw what happened when I touched someone. He likened me to a transmitter, that sent information in one direction. Then he taught me how to block the transfer process, how to keep my feelings to myself, especially during highly emotional situations. I haven't lost control like I did on Ocampa in years."

"Oh." Tom's expression grew frankly speculative.

His confession lifted a weight he barely realized he'd been carrying and Chakotay found himself waiting calmly for Tom's next move.

When Tom held out his hand, he smiled and confidently took it in his own.

"Not a thing," observed Tom, looking directly at Chakotay, after staring for a long moment at their clasped hands.

The sudden heat in Tom's blue gaze had him automatically firming his shields; Lonato's training had been thorough.

"And you really don't get anything from me?"

"No."

"Damn. Let me try a little harder."

Chakotay couldn't hold back his laughter when Tom screwed up his face. The younger man's crossed eyes and twitching nose made him think of crazed rabbits, drunk on the nectar of overripe mahvah grass flowers.

"Have dinner with me tonight," said Tom, as he let go of Chakotay's hand and stood up. "My quarters, twenty hundred hours."

"But--"

"Dinner," repeated Tom. "And by the way, this conversation isn't finished, not by a parsec."

"Very well," said Chakotay. "I'll be there." He ordered the computer to unlock the door.

"Everything will be okay. I own your life, remember," said Tom with a smile, before heading down the corridor.

"Yes, you do," murmured Chakotay, once the door was closed. And maybe, one day he'd own Tom's.

END


End file.
